Mr. Styles » H.S.

Mara Zaragoza has never been the person of quite confidence. On her first day of at Portland University, she encounters with her Literature professor - Mr. Harry Styles. Who's a charmer and has expensive taste. Dealing with her anxiety and not accepting who she is, Mr. Styles brings out the best of her. With misunderstandings, finding love again, and completely bringing out the best of each other. Mara finds that her deepest affection in life is found in the one and only - Mr. Styles.

2. One

I had a night class, my only class with Jade. We had Art History with Mrs. Yoshitomo; it was from 6:50 to 9:20 at night. Jade and I bought some tea and almond cookies to keep us awake. I didn't tell Jade about the note Mr. Styles wrote me earlier. It was so weird getting this from a professor. But I bet he did this to all his students. Oh, and I got the job at the bookstore; I start next week.

Mrs. Yoshitomo was showing us art back from the renaissance; like Leonardo DaVinci, Michelangelo, and others I can't name. She was talking about how some of DaVinci's work didn't mean anything. For example, you've got the Mona Lisa. Who was she? Did she even exist? Some say she's the female version of DaVinci. But why do people claim her as important. She's some person who's smiling. Where's the history behind that? But compare it to Michelangelo's The Creation of Adam in the Sistine Chapel; it has some kind of religious history to it. God, Adam, and the Bible. I'm not religious, so I wouldn't know much about the Bible. I scribbled a few facts as Mrs. Yoshitomo talked and talked. Once in awhile she'll ask for someone's opinion, no one will talk. Thank god, this class ended early as well. As Jade and I walked to her SUV, from the corner of my eye, I saw someone walking toward us. I picked up my pace, making Jade catch up with me. In my mind, I prayed that it isn't some kind of creep trying to sell us stuff.

Jade's phone them buzzed and we both stopped at our tracks.

"Shit," Jade muttered. "I have a meeting right now for the Japanese club. Do you wanna tag along?"

I shook my head. "I'll take the bus, I know the way back."

"You sure?" She offered again.

"I'll be fine. See you tomorrow."

We both hugged goodbye and I began to walk my way to the bus stop. It wasn't that dark yet, the sun was barely setting and it filled the sky with so many shades of pink, purple, and orange. No one was at the bus stop, I took a seat on the bench and took out my book to read. I was reading How the Garcia Girls Lost their Accents by Julia Alvarez. Placing the book on my lap, I took out my reading glasses, and hunched over the book just a little. I don't how many times I've read this book, it was one of my favorites. In the middle of reading, I didn't realize that I wasn't alone anymore. In front of me, someone with brown boots and tight denim jeans stood there. I fixed my glasses farther up my nose bridge just before glancing up. My eyes widen as a pair of green eyes stared back at me, curiously.

"Mr. S–Styles," I stammered.

He kindly smiled down at me. "Please, call me Harry," he spoke softly.

Har—I mean Mr. Styles looked so different in his new clothing attire. He wore a white, ironed blouse with its sleeves rolled up and buttoned half way. I saw a hint of black ink drawn on his chest. His hair was tied up to a small bun. He was not the Mr. Styles from my English class.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked me.

"Um, waiting—for the bus."

"Would you like a ride?"

I said, "is that even allowed?"

Mr. Styles smiled again, not smiled but smirked. "I'm sure no one will care Mara. Please, just once."

Tamara Sofía, you are the dumbest girl on this planet. I scold at myself as I walked side-by-side with Mr. Styles. After I told him that it was alright for him to take me home. Stupid, stupid! We both walked awfully quiet, only the sound of Har—Mr. Styles's car keys swinging between his fingers. Approaching a black Range Rover, my whole body tensed as I felt a hand at the bottom of my back. Mr. Styles noticed and moved his hand away, walking ahead of me. With my stubby legs, I won't be able to keep up. He opened the passenger door for me. My heart was beating so loud, I was scared that he was able to hear it. After, I climbed in and he closed the door; I quickly inspected his car. I looked behind me, under my seat and—shit; the glove compartment was locked. That's a really bad sign, really bad.

His car door opened and he swiftly got inside. Mr. Styles buckled himself up and so did I. I gulped and gulped again. My nerves started to kick in as I saw my hands began to shake. Dammit, Mara. Mr. Styles jammed the key into the ignition and sparked the engine to life. He had his arm on the back of my seat as he slowly drove reverse out of the parking spot. We were out of the uni's parking lot and onto the streets of Portland. I didn't look anywhere but at my hands. Which wouldn't stop shaking. In five minutes something horrible could happen. One, he could be kidnapping me and I wouldn't know. Second, he could be part of the Mafia and he was taking me out of the country. And third, he wasn't a professor, just some fraud that wanted to get laid. Oh god, I do exaggerate a lot. But then, his glove compartment was locked. He could have a gun in there and threaten to kill me.

I didn't notice that I was shaking even more and my breathe started to shorten. Mr. Styles pulled to the side of the street and got out; running around the car and opening the passenger door.

"Mara," he panicked.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

Mr. Styles took my hands into his; he began to rub them against his. Drawing small circles on the back of my hand. His touch, his warmth; it felt all so familiar. As if I were back home and my dad would do the same every time I woke up from a nightmare. "Mara, look at me."

And I did. I don't know why, but it felt right.

"Breathe for me love," he said.

I closed my eyes and held my breathe for three seconds.

Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale.

"In my backpack," I whispered. "My pills, in a black medical bag."

Hearing the zippers close and open; the familiar sound of all my medication was music to my ears. I felt my hand open and a tiny pill fall upon it. My eyes opened and I took the pill in mouth, Mr. Styles gave me my water bottle. After I long sip, I took one final breath before my eyes met his. Harry's eyes filled with worry and panic. "Are you alright love?" He asked me again.

And then I was crying. Embarrassed that somebody like him, got to see me at my worst. Now he's going to think that I'm some type of mental case that needs even more help. "I-I'm s-s-sorry-y," I sobbed in between breathes.

Harry caressed my cheek and he pinched my chin; lifting it up so I can see his face. He wiped the tears from my face; and he did the most unexpected move. Harry brought my hands to his lips and feeling the soft touch of his lips kiss my hands; made my body tingle.

"Don't apologize," Harry said softly. "You're going to be okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you Mr.—Harry."

Finally, just as I saw the familiar apartment complex; my heart sang with joy. Harry turned off the engine and walked around the car. I unbuckled my seat belt and the passenger door swung open. Harry grabbed my backpack and took my hand in his. Carefully we walked up the stairs and we reached apartment #7. I took out the keys from my pocket and opened my apartment door. I turned to Harry, as he stood in front of me. He was shadowed by the apartments silhouette. Our fingers dangled on to one another's just when we aren't holding on to one another. We were both quiet. Till Harry broke off the silence.

"I'll see you Wednesday class," is all he said. Before turning around and I saw him jog down the stairs, into his car; and saw him drive away.

I closed the door behind me and I plopped down on my bed. My whole body giving out and my eyes were ready to close.

Why? I asked myself. Why?

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I hope you guys like the story. I'll be updating once or twice each week.

I've got finals and final essays to work on, so it'll take my time from writing